


Flannel

by kaige68



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Sam is comic relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 18:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16560989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaige68/pseuds/kaige68
Summary: Cas kissed him as a distraction, and Dean is distracted.





	Flannel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatwasJustaDream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/gifts).



> WOW is this late. I was supposed to have written this for last year's Swap of Joy at 1_million_words. Poor Dreamy.
> 
> But here it is. I hope you like it. I'm horribly sorry that I was such a deadbeat. You deserve better!
> 
> Superfast read through by AsphaltCowGrrl - Thank you!

“It shouldn’t be this big of a deal, Dean?”

“WHAT?”

“You’re a progressive thinker. You’re secure in your _Manhood_.” Cas rolled his eyes and looked out the car window at the night going by.

He’d actually used air quotes. _AIR QUOTES!_ Dean wasn’t certain which was worse, the air quotes or the fact that Cas had kissed him.

“No, he’s not.” Sam was doing everything he could not to giggle.

“You! Shut it.” Dean didn’t question if Sam thought he wasn’t a progressive thinker or wasn’t secure in his… He couldn’t even think the word.

“I’m fairly certain that I wasn’t your first kiss.”

Dean barked out a quick laugh.

“And you’ve probably been kissed by a man before.”

Dean opened his mouth to negate that idea but… yeah, no.

Sam’s eyes grew cartoon large.

“So, it shouldn’t be this big of a deal. You are… blowing this out of proportion, I believe is the phrase.”

“I’m-“

“I’m not even your first angel.”

“Okay, don’t say it like that.”

“Like what? Like we’ve been physically intimate? Please Dean. We all know you aren’t _that_ secure in your manhood.” Cas rolled his damn eyes and there were those air quotes again.

“It’s masculinity, not … _manhood_.” Dean’s voice may have cracked a bit. In the mirror he saw Cas make a strange shrugging movement.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” Cas sat silently for the rest of the ride.

But it was a big deal. Dean kept rubbing his thumb across the tips of his fingers. He didn’t remember what Cas tasted like (although he could remember there was tongue). There wasn’t a smell or sound stuck in his head from the kiss they’d shared. It was a good diversion, Sammy was crap at pickpocketing, but a gratuitous man-on-man kiss kept eyes away from him. It hadn’t lasted that long, just long enough for Sammy to grab the map. And Cas was dressed in his normal Cas get up. But Dean’s fingertips, where they’d landed on Cas’s chest, he kept feeling flannel. 

Not the starchy chemical-fake softness of a new flannel shirt. Not the thin worn feel of an old shirt that seemed to bend at the elbows even after it came out of the wash. Cas felt like that wonderful in between texture of something comfortable and washed with good fabric softener. Really good fabric softener.

Warm. Soft. Comfortable. Inviting. 

Kissing a guy in a dress-shirt and overcoat shouldn’t feel like that. Kissing Cas shouldn’t ever feel like velvety flannel. _Velvety?!_ What was wrong with him? 

He just couldn’t wrap his head around feeling flannel when he touched Cas. And worse, Dean wanted to touch Cas again to prove to himself that he didn’t feel like gentle flannel. _Gentle?! … Tender?_

“I need a drink.”

“Yeah,” Sam huffed. “You’re secure.”

 

*~*

 

Dean loaded up the washer in the bunker. He’d bought the good fabric softener, the unscented kind. He’d even bought the little ball that he filled and dropped into the machine so that he wouldn’t have to wait for the right time to add it. But he parked himself in front of the machine where he’d have to wait for both the washer and then the dryer to finished before he could even try to compare…

He sighed, dropped the magazine he’d brought with him of busty Asian chicks, and rubbed his thumb against his fingers. 

Compare his shirts to Cas.

There. He’d said it. Or acknowledged that he’d thought it.

“It’s soft and warm but solid.”

He looked up to see Cas in the doorway with his eyes on Dean’s fingers.

“Yeah.” Dean leaned back on the table behind him. “Flannel.”

“Blue.”

“You can feel the colors?”

“No,” Cas looked up finally and met Dean’s gaze. “It’s just the picture I get when I close my eyes. Blue with gray blue and gray stripes going through it.”

“Plaid.” He nodded as though he could see what Cas was seeing. He couldn’t, but with flannel he just sort of assumed plaid.

“Nothing loud.”

“Subtle.” Dean confirmed.

“I would not have thought that anything about you and sex would be subtle.”

Dean sputtered. Stood up. Flailed ineffectually. Sputtered some more.

“Okay,” Cas shook his head. “Not sex but…”

And Dean knew. Just like he knew flannel. It hadn’t been a peck of affection the other day, when Cas had kissed him in the bar. Dean had found a tongue in his mouth, a hand on the back of his neck. Dean had kissed him back. It wasn’t actually God smitable fornication, but it was…

“A precursor.” Cas finished.

Deflated, Dean leaned against the table again. He stroked his fingers with his thumb and watched Cas watch the motion.

Castiel turned on his heels and walked away.

 

*~*

Running the fingers of his left hand over his new low key blue shirt, Dean made a motion with his right hand which had become very like a nervous twitch over the last ten days. And since when did he count days? He was losing his mind, but found his fingers touching his thumb again.

The new shirt and the incorporeal feel didn’t compare at all.

He found Cas in the kitchen. Sammy was there too, but Dean didn’t spare him a look. Dean moved toward the angel. “This is making me nuts.”

Cas simply nodded without looking up from staring at his own hand.

Dean pushed into Cas’s space. Pushed Cas’s shoulder. Pushed Cas up against the wall. Pushed his face a hair away from Cas’s cheek. “Nothing feels right.”

Somewhere behind them, Sam squeaked and ducked out of the room.

“Else.”

Dean swallowed nervously. “What?” Did he really just whisper that?

“Nothing else feels right.” Cas corrected. And then his palm was spread on Dean’s chest. Lips were opening against Dean’s mouth. He flattened his own hand in the center of Cas’s chest. He parted his own lips.

Dean sighed. Cas was dead-on, nothing else felt this right. Flannel was his new favorite thing. Dean pushed in closer, wondering if he could feel it everywhere.


End file.
